


Hugging the Curve

by toomuchplor



Series: Circle!Verse [3]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: F/M, Genderswap, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-16
Updated: 2008-01-16
Packaged: 2017-10-20 04:28:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/208737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toomuchplor/pseuds/toomuchplor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"Hands off my sister, you pervert," says Rodney, but his heart's not in it.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Hugging the Curve

**Author's Note:**

> rogue_planet asked for "what happened next" for Straight as a Circle.

"What I'd like to know," says Rodney, voice dripping with bitterness, "is where the hell was this Ancient piece of _crap_ six months ago when I really needed it?"

John tilts his head and folds his arms over his chest. "You would have done this for me?" he asks, smirking. "That's so thoughtful." It's weird -- even though John knows Jeannie Miller pretty well, and even though Rodney and Jeannie share a lot of gestures and inflections, there's no chance that he'd mistake Rodney-in-Jeannie's-body for the real deal. Everything is just a little off, from the rounded slump of Jeannie's shoulders, to the unhappy way Rodney keeps fingering the gaping collar of his too-large uniform shirt.

"I wouldn't have done it on _purpose_ ," snaps Rodney irritably, then revises his statement. "Not with Jeannie, anyway. Maybe with that hot arms dealer with the big rack, you liked her, right?" He clears his throat and holds his hands out from his sides as he looks down at himself in dismay. "This is way more disturbing. God, what if we don't fix it today? I might have to _see my sister naked_."

"Worse yet," says John. "If your theory is right, and Jeannie's stuck in your body back on Earth, you could be having sex with Kaleb as we speak."

Rodney goes pale and fumbles for a chair, hands trembling. He cradles his head in his hands and breathes deep, blonde curls tumbling down around his face and knees planted wide in classic masculine Rodney style.

"Turnabout's fair play," John suggests, and comes close enough to stroke a hand over Rodney's scalp.

"Hands off my sister, you pervert," says Rodney, but his heart's not in it. He tilts his face up, big blue McKay eyes beseeching John for comfort instead of teasing. John's stomach tilts a little. It's barely a conscious choice, just a little instinctive motion to dip down and press a kiss into the corner of Rodney's unhappy slanted mouth.

"Zelenka will fix it," says John reassuringly. "And you can close your eyes in the shower and I'll do the washing if it comes down to that."

"Because that's less weird," Rodney grumps, but he kisses John back, a little more urgently. Their lips part and it's like it was six months ago, with John's body throwing up barriers of disinterest and John's mind pressing onwards into the familiarity of Rodney's mouth. Rodney's hand comes up, too small and slender and with short manicured nails, carding through John's hair. "Stop, stop," Rodney murmurs, and pulls away. "I'm pretty sure Jeannie will kick my ass if I give her body back and it's carrying our love child."

John snorts at the thought and steals a last kiss before standing upright and backing away.

"You would, though?" asks Rodney, half question and half revelation. "You'd still -- if I couldn't change back, you'd --"

"You'll change back," John tells him, rolling his eyes.

"No, but -- hypothetically," says Rodney, fiddling with his collar again and biting at his lower lip. He's softer like this, rounder and sweeter and closer to the surface of himself, not entrenched and prickly as usual. John contemplates the question for a moment, taking in this new iteration of Rodney, his changed shape and his light warm scent.

"I don't know," John says slowly, then pulls one side of his mouth into a leer, "are you any good at giving head like this? Can you still do the thing with the inside of your cheek and your tongue, or is your mouth too small?"

"Oh my god," Rodney says, disgusted, and swivels his chair towards his computer. "Men are pigs."

John snorts and wanders over to sit on Rodney's -- really, _their_ \-- bed, leaving Rodney to work on reversing the body-switching mistake with renewed energy. No doubt he's being spurred on by the thought of Kaleb using Rodney's body to explore his liberal arts queer side.

John's half-asleep when Rodney comes to bed, his smaller body shifting into the vee of John's armpit. John can feel, though Rodney's shirt, how Jeannie's breasts are soft and yielding against John's chest. The little sleepy hum Rodney always makes as he settles into slumber is strange in a treble tone, but John reaches up and strokes his thumb over Rodney's borrowed jawline, warm and content and weirdly affectionate.

"You _so_ would," sing-songs Rodney with Jeannie's voice, and there's the briefest contact between the inside of Rodney's thigh and the front of John's boxers, just enough so that they both feel it: John's cock, lifting a little with muted sleepy pleasure.

"What can I say," John rumbles drowsily, "your sister's hot."


End file.
